


Fake Smiles, Fake Happiness

by StarlightXNightmare



Series: Septic Egos [31]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Alcoholism, Disregard for One's Health, Drug Use, Fights, Loneliness, Mentioned Verbal Abuse, Poor choices, Post-Divorce, Shame, Suicide Attempt, implied past spousal abuse, suicidal ideations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightXNightmare/pseuds/StarlightXNightmare
Summary: Not like it mattered anyway. Nothing mattered.





	Fake Smiles, Fake Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Since today is World Mental Health Day I decided this would be a message to everyone who struggles with some kind of mental health issue. Please seek help before it gets to the point where you don’t want to live anymore or some other point that is very unhealthy. You always have people who care even if it doesn’t feel like it. I care for one, even if I’ve never met you. Stay strong <3
> 
> WARNINGS: This story contains themes of depression, suicidal ideations, disregard for one’s health/self harm, alcoholism, drugs, divorce, an unhealthy relationship with one’s ex that involves verbal abuse, and a suicide attempt. 
> 
> Please don’t read if you’re not in a great mental space currently or if any of these things trigger you. Take breaks if you need to while reading this. Stay safe.

The last past few weeks were hard. He’d been kicked out of his own house, Stacy leaving him voicemails and texts every day talking about how she’d make sure that he wouldn’t get custody of the kids and how much of a failure he was. Jackie was out on patrol more now than ever and whenever he was home, he was passed out on the couch. Marvin practically lived at the theater venue. Schneep was spending every waking moment working tirelessly, whether in the hospital or down in the basement testing new experiments or filing paperwork. To say Chase was lonely was an understatement.

All the others were too busy with something or another to hold a proper conversation. It was getting to the point where he wasn’t feeling as well as he used to, his schedule—the one he had meticulously planned with his camera crew's help—slowly being unraveled as he ignored some tasks and plans every day, opting to do less and less. He supposed he could organize a meet and greet with some fans. At this point Chase would do just about anything for a proper conversation and some physical contact.

As soon as he tried to gather his thoughts and what little motivation he still retained to try and get together with some fans, he quickly found out he was too tired and didn’t want to leave the house. Just the thought of going out in public and being around people made him exhausted. _Fucking dammit._

Loneliness ate away at his mind, his insides remaining twisted painfully tight. He’d done everything he could to ignore it: working on his videos, watching TV, sleeping, taking walks…. Everything just reminded him of how lonely it was in a house with three other people living inside it. As much as he loved the three dogs and curling up with Cuddles—the bear Marvin had gifted him—he really needed human contact and soon.

Nobody really noticed it when Chase slowly began spending more and more time in his room. It was gradual enough that with all the other shit happening nobody noticed he came put less and less often for food.

It was miserable being so alone. He wanted nothing more than to go start a conversation with the others but he didn’t want to bother them, because what they were doing was important.

It was embarrassing how clingy he got when he was feeling like this. Marvin had barely said good morning to him and then suddenly he was trying to drag the conversation out for long as possible, asking Marvin what he was planning for the day, hoping on the off chance he’d ramble. The feeling that bloomed up inside him when Marvin had dismissed him, saying he had a lot to do and couldn’t stay and chat was—the best way to put it—crushing.

* * *

He had a nightmare that night. Something about mocking, glitchy whispers, grasping hands clawing at his shirt, tainted memories, and repeated words. He woke with a surprised jolt. 

He didn’t feel like going back to sleep after that.

* * *

He lost the court case trying to gain custody of his kids. He was allotted a full week every month with the two… except Stacy got to chose when he’d get to see them.

He cried the rest of the day and drank until he couldn’t remember why he was even crying and drinking anymore.

* * *

He went into work with puffy red eyes and a strained smile. It was clear in person that Chase wasn’t doing too well but if the camera was far enough away then it’d take someone who could pick up on detail and body language fairly easily to be able to notice something wasn’t right. 

After the first few lies he told, his camera crew finally stopped asking him what was wrong. They got used to him crying in the break room before and after shoots.

* * *

When Jackie finally announced they all had to eat dinner together like a “goddamn” family, Chase had all but jumped at the opportunity.  _Finally._  Ignoring a dinner summon was practically a sin in the house. Except two did anyway. 

Schneep used the excuse of not being able to take off work and Marvin bailed, saying he had a meeting with the stage crew or whoever. That was fine Chase told himself, there was still Jackie.

Sitting at the table with Jackie, chatting every couple minutes when the two managed to come up with a non depressing topic was the best he’d ever felt in a while. While Chase was hurt the others skipped, he was so glad he got to talk to Jackie. When Jackie was in the middle of discussing what movie they should watch, his work phone rang. Something important. He looked guilty about having to cut dinner short and cancel whatever they’d been planning but Chase waved him away, insisting it was fine and that Jackie needed to go. If Jackie noticed the lie, he didn’t show it.

As soon as Jackie left, the hole in his chest returned and the bad feeling settled all throughout his body.

He told himself he needed to stop relying on other people so much.

* * *

He stayed that way for another week until Jackie insisted everyone had to join in on dinner. Said how Schneep's paperwork wasn’t going anywhere and if something went wrong at the hospital then it’d alert Schneep’s phone.

Nobody was in a good mood. Marvin was pissed that Jackie had literally dragged him back home while Schneep wasn’t any better. Chase himself wasn’t feeling too great either. He was on the verge of falling asleep sitting up, eyelids heavy but a pounding headache was keeping him awake. (He’d wanted to skip but Jackie dragged him out like all the others.) Jackie was put out by all the other’s moods.

The dinner table was uncomfortably silent, Jackie having given up small talk ten minutes ago, air tense. Marvin and Schneep fumed silently, Marvin refusing to eat and Schneep trying to finish everything as quick as possible. Chase had given up any pretenses of being interested in the food, leaning on his arm propped up on the table. 

So tired… it was hard to not fall asleep. Chase knew it was a bad idea to be drawing out his blinks for so long, eventually his eyes would refuse to open and the blackness would drag him down down down and he’d wake up with the same headache but worse…

“Christ guys,” he heard Jackie mumble next to him. “Lighten up a bit.”

His brain processed things sluggishly slow but by the time he realized what the other had said, Marvin was already shoving his chair back and snapping angrily. Then Jackie was on his feet followed by Schneep, and holy shit everything was going to hell and Chase had a front row ticket to the shit show. Everyone was at the end of their ropes and it was only a matter of time before something did or said something they regret.

If Chase’s head hurt before then it felt like it would explode now. He squeezed his eyes shut, the yelling of the others making everything worse. The headache, the loneliness, the painful memories, it wouldn’t stop—

He put his hands over his ears, hissing as it didn’t block the noise out all the way. The sounds continued to slither past his hands and into his head.

Nobody noticed the shudder that wracked his body nor did they see him shove his seat back and stagger to his feet. Ducking his head down and darting out of the room, he did his best to race to his room without crumpling into a heap right away. They did however hear the slam of a door upstairs though it didn’t end the argument.

Chase didn’t leave his room for a day or two after that.

* * *

He drunkenly played Russian Roulette for the first time. Not like he could remember most of it. All he knew was the next shot would’ve killed him.

God favors drunks…

Please, if that were true, Chase should've been dead already. Either with a bullet lodged in his skull or by drinking himself to an early death.

* * *

Another nightmare, but this time it involved his brothers abandoning him, saying he needed to grow up and get over it. He woke up and reached for the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table.

* * *

Schneep prescribed him sleeping pills. He hadn’t meant to let it slip that he had been having somewhat frequent nightmares and that he had been having problems sleeping but once Schneep had commented on the bags under his eyes, everything just slipped out. Oh well… maybe he could finally sleep for once.

He doubted it.

* * *

A soft knock at his door. He heard it but it didn’t register in his mind. In one ear and out the other. Even if he had registered it, he wouldn’t’ve answered. He felt too tired to talk.

“Chase?” The voice wouldn’t register in his mind either. Sounded familiar though. He just couldn’t put a name to it. His brows furrowed as he tried to think. _Tired._

“We’re all going out to eat. You need to get ready.” Ah Jackie, that’s who it was. “None of us are getting out of this this time.”

Bullshit. If anyone was getting out of it, it was going to be Chase. He wasn’t above crying to get out this at the moment. If he even could anymore; he felt too tired to even cry—he’s cried too much recently.

Another set of knocks, more insistent than before. “Chase seriously. We’re waiting on you. We’ve given you seven minutes to get ready.” Really? Did he zone out or had he been half asleep the first time? A twist of the doorknob. “Really? Locked? You do know I can pick locks, right?” A pause. “Are you even awake?”

He didn’t want to leave his bed. The nest of blankets piled on his bed were so warm and the pressure of the weighted blanket was nice. Felt like someone was hugging him.

“Jackie, we should go.” Marvin. “He’s probably outside taking a walk. You know he locks his room when he leaves the house.”

(Yeah ever since he had gone out with his kids on one of his days with them and Marvin had snooped through his phone. He didn’t know what he’d do if they found his revolver and another bottle of whiskey hidden in his nightstand drawer.)

“Just shoot him a text telling him he’s free to join us if he wants.”

“I haven’t seen him leave the house all day, Marv.”

“He could’ve left before you woke up.” The magician reasoned levelly. 

“That’s been over seven hours ago!”

“He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

Jackie scoffed. “Really now?”

Okay, that  _hurt_  but… in his current situation….. touché.

“Even if he’s still in the house, just leave him be. He’s clearly not answering for a reason.” Seems like Marvin knew what was up.

“… Fine.”

Then he was alone again.

* * *

He took two pills to help him sleep. When they didn’t work fast enough, he took another two.

* * *

The others were several paces ahead of him, talking animatedly about some topic Chase’s brain was too fried to decipher. Hearing the joyous laughter hurt his hurt and made his intestines twist themselves into bows. He wished he could laugh that carefree again, if only once more.

It was a dreary day—light drizzles of rain, somber clouds blocking the sun, and fog settling close to the ground. (It matched his mood… huh.) Most people were inside today but not him and his brothers. Jackie insisted that today was an excellent day to take a family walk. This time the others agreed. Here they all were, walking down the sidewalk of some busy street, his brothers donning umbrellas and raincoats.

Chase was the only one who wasn’t in a raincoat and carrying an umbrella. Schneep had complained how being cold would allow the bacteria in his body to get him sick but Chase  _really didn’t care._   _So what_  if he got sick? Not like it mattered anyway. Nothing mattered. 

Cars zipped by, headlights slicing through the fog as they passed. There was something truly transfixing about the repetitive process the cars did. He slowed to a stop, staring blankly at the street, cars passing through his vision.

He could do it. It’d be easy. All he had to do was step out into the street. They wouldn’t be able to stop in time. It’d all be over. No worries, no pain, no more feeling numb, no Stacy, no more waking up no more feeling useless, no more hangovers that incapacitate him the whole day only for him to drink more later that night. It’d be like sleeping forever. He liked sleeping, it was like everything paused, frozen in time. Do it, do it, do it, you coward. Just a few steps and close your eyes. It’s so easy. Even he couldn’t possibly fuck something this easy up—

A violent shake to his shoulder dragged his attention away from the headlights. He turned to see Marvin by his side. He looked annoyed.

“What the hell, Chase!? I’ve called your name over five times. We’re all waiting on you. What are you even doing?” Right… he was an inconvenience… a burden.

Chase’s mouth went dry as he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation.

He knows, he knows, he knows. He’s suspicious, he knows what you were thinking, he knows what you were about to do.

“I-I…” Suddenly for the first time in a long time, a wave of unexplained anger washed over him. How dare Marvin act like he doesn’t already know how much if a burden he was? Why should Chase have to explain himself to someone who doesn’t care?

“Well if I’m such a fucking inconvenience then leave me behind!” He yelled, startling Marvin into taking a concerned step forward. His shout carried over the roar of the cars and reached the other’s ears, causing them to turn in surprise.

Marvin’s frustrated face fell. “Wait, no, Chase, that’s not what I meant—”

“Go away! Just join the group and leave me the fuck alone if I’m so slow!” He hollered, pointing at the other two far ahead.

As quick as Marvin’s face softened, it hardened once more. “Fine,” he bit out, gaze frosty. He spun on his heel and stalked away, leaving Chase standing by the road.

Everything felt a little colder. He was acutely aware of the rain falling more heavily, of the chill that snaked its way around his bones. He felt… empty.

He turned his gaze back to the passing cars when he realized he was a lot closer than when he first started.

He stepped back off the edge of the curb.

* * *

Things between him and Marvin were more tense after that. Things between him and the others were more tense. Awkward pauses, aborted conversations, less physical contact…

They hated him. He knew it.

* * *

Chase developed a habit of crossing the road without looking both ways. He’s nearly gotten hit a few times. He wished he had been.

* * *

At some point in time (he couldn’t remember; everything felt so long ago), his camera crew had to remind him to smile for the filming process. He put on his widest grin.

_Fake._

* * *

He was still tired in the morning when he woke up. He took a handful of pills (he counted eight of them after dumping them out into his palm). He wasn’t sure if he’d wake up or not. 

He did… unfortunately.

* * *

Chase had to start practicing how to properly smile in the mirror so his camera crew wouldn’t have to tell him to every time before they started. He spent a few minutes each day staring detachedly into the mirror, trying to figure out why his smile seemed so off (the dark bags under his eyes weren’t helping his case). Different types of smiles all resulted in the same result.

It felt fake, looked fake, and was fake. Fake, fake, fake.

He used his pointer fingers to drag his lips into a smile. It looked so comical and ridiculous it hurt. He laughed and laughed and laughed, clutching at his sides, struggling to draw in breath between his gasping peals of laughter. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. His laughter dissolved into shaky sobs.

He gave up on his endeavor of trying to look normal after that day.  _Who cared?_

* * *

He stole a bottle of painkillers from Schneep’s office. Schneep was pissed. He thought Jackie had done it due to his previous addiction to them. Jackie was angry the doctor assumed so. Thankfully no one was pointing fingers at him since he was a terrible liar. He wasn’t sure if he had enough energy to feel guilty enough to give himself away.

While the pills in a daily dose may not kill the pain he was feeling on the inside, one big dose before bed might do the trick.

* * *

His channel Bro Average went on a undetermined hiatus due to “not feeling his greatest.” His fans and crew were so supportive… then why couldn’t he believe them when they said he deserved this?

* * *

A week later Chase had drunkenly let it slip to Marvin that he had been the one to steal the painkillers. He also rambled on and on about how tired he always was and how nothing felt like it mattered.

In the morning, he woke up with a killer headache not remembering anything after his fourth or fifth glass of whiskey. The others didn’t bother him to come downstairs but when he did Marvin was the only one at the table, reading from some leatherbound book written in Latin. The magician seemed distracted but the tension on his end had dissolved and he seemed more patient with Chase than before.

* * *

That night he discovered the contents of his bedside stand—his whiskey, his revolver, and the pills—were gone.

* * *

It was his turn to have the kids for a day or two (it depended on what schedule Stacy felt like). He found out from his kids that she was dating some guy named Robin. As soon as the kids left, he got hammered.

The whiskey bottle he’d misplaced wasn’t the only one he owned.

* * *

Another week passed and he got to see his kids again. But when he finally truly smiled for the first time in days, he felt guilty. He didn’t deserve this. He felt like he was intruding on something private. He wasn’t the same person as himself from several months ago. He was a stranger living another’s life. 

He wanted the guilt to stop.

* * *

He didn’t ever admit it to himself but he was addicted to the sleeping pills. He  _had_  to take them every day.

* * *

Stacy picked the kids up after their two days with him. While they were getting in the car, Stacy told him once more (like every other time) that she’d figure out a way to have the kids unable to see him so she could move back to California with her family so he’d be unable to see them. She sounded so smug and sure of herself.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey after they left.

* * *

While trying to find a specific potion for Marvin, he found his gun and whiskey in a locked trunk in the other's room. He expected rage but only felt eerily empty and numb.

_Why did it even matter?_

He dug around through the trunk, found the potion, took the gun and bottle, and locked the trunk back up. This time he hid the bottle and gun under his bed behind all the stuff he crammed under there when he was too tired to clean properly. Marvin probably wouldn’t notice the two things were gone.

* * *

He didn’t.

* * *

Stacy called him in the middle of the first film shoot in a month, informing him she was moving in with her sister and that the house was free for him to use again. Mere seconds after his daughter had gotten hold of the phone to tell him something, the call was cut short. He cried on set.

The film shooting was wrapped up quickly and they didn’t post anything for another week.

He didn’t move back into the house.

* * *

A sticky note left on the fridge said he’d be out at the office today, that he didn’t know when he’d be back, and that he loved them. Not  _entirely_  a lie. He wasn’t even sure if the others had seen it.

They hadn’t paid much attention to the peculiar wording.

* * *

His camera crew were all down the hall in the breakroom, eating lunch and chatting happily, giving him full access to the camera. The red light blinked at him monotonously. It was rolling.

* * *

He gave a small, rueful smile for the camera, gun held tight in his hand. Fake. The smile felt as fake as all the others. Felt as fake as his “happiness.”

“This one’s called ‘Stacy I love you, please don’t go.’”

The cold metal of the gun nozzle pressed against his temple. He pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Intrusive thoughts are actually the worst. I go on walks nearly every day except, unlike Chase, I’m alone. Sometimes my brain goes: “hey you could throw yourself in front of a car and die right now!!!” Like no??? Don’t do that??? And then my brain goes, “you coward, you pathetic fool,” Or “you could swallow a bottle of pills and go to sleep and never wake up like you’ve always wanted!!!” NO??? CAN YOU NOT??? But yeah… this is what I think happened with Chase. 
> 
> (And yeah my Dad would tell my Mom that he would take us and move states so we could live with his family but we were too young to understand what that meant—hell I can’t even remember that). So yeah, whenever I write Chase and Stacy, I base it somewhat off my parent’s relationship. The main feelings and conversations and stuff like that. One sided love really. Poor Chase.


End file.
